Хармони Харт - Basic Witch

She pushed her glasses down to the tip of her nose and peered at me. “An earth witch, to be specific. And that beautiful creature is your familiar.” Titus chirped happily at the compliment.

“So I’ve been told.”

“Your grandmother Mavis was an earth witch, as well. She was entrusted with teaching you the ways of the Coven. I’d hoped she would cross over into Salem with you. Two Bradbury witches in the same era would have... Ah, well. You know what they say about best-laid plans!”

“What’s so special about Bradbury witches?”

“Not just special, child. Extraordinary. You’re a direct descendant of Mary Perkins Bradbury, founder of the township of Salem. The power flowing through your veins is the stuff of legend.” She sighed, her expression taking on a distant haze. Just as I was beginning to think I’d lost her to her daydreams, she snapped back to attention. “Now, where was I?”

“You were telling me about my lineage?”

“Ah! Yes. Nevermind that. We’ll save the history lesson for another time. For now, we must deal with the pressing matter of Mortimer Montcrief’s untimely demise.”

“I had nothing to do with it. I tried to tell the Detective what happened, but—”

“The Coven intervened the moment we received notification you had crossed over. Detective Winterbottom tends to be a bit overzealous in his law enforcement endeavors. It was best we intercepted you before things got carried away. You’ll have the opportunity to explain your involvement when he questions you tomorrow. I have no doubt you’ll be cleared of any wrongdoing.”

“And what if I’m not?” I asked. Something told me placing my faith in Detective Otto’s investigative abilities would be an exercise in futility.

“The Coven is prepared to provide you with legal representation. And we trust the Town Barrister, Bennett Covington, to consider the case quite carefully before jumping to prosecution.” She swiveled to eye a dapper, dark-haired man seated to her right.

At the mention of his name, he nodded and sat back in his chair, steepling his fingers before flashing me a debonair smile—complete with unnaturally sharp incisors.

“Excuse me, are those—?”

“Fangs? Yes.” He ran his tongue along his upper teeth before retracting them with a smirk. “Allow me to introduce myself. I am Bennett Covington, Head of Salem’s Vampire Clan. Pardon my primal reaction to your scent. It’s been over a decade since we’ve had any new blood in Salem.” He arched a brow, boring into me with hypnotic golden eyes that I couldn’t seem to look away from. “The novelty triggered my more... animalistic instincts.”

“Should I be worried?” I asked. The vampire’s pointed phrasing wasn’t exactly reassuring.

He flashed another grin but didn’t answer. Yep. I should definitely be worried.

“ Thank Bastet I happened to jump on that shelf when I did! What if you had left me behind? Who would have fed me? And pet me? And loved me?”

“Sorry.” I shrugged, offering a sheepish grin to the Mayor and her harem of male advisors. “She doesn’t mean to be rude. We’re just now figuring out this whole talking cat business.”

“No need for apologies. You’re the only one who can tell what your familiar is saying. All of the animals can talk to each other. And shifters like Gabriel and Kai here, when they’re in animal form, of course.” She gestured to two of the men seated at the table. “But that’s an entirely different topic. Your familiar’s soul is tied to yours, and she will live as long as you do. But contrary to popular belief, not all familiars come in the form of a black cat.”

“Leave it to me to be totally basic.”

“Basic what?”

“I just meant—nevermind.” I had more important things to do than explain the basic white girl phenomenon to an elderly witch. Something told her Mayor Davenport would be less than impressed by all the ways in which I lacked originality.

“Dear me, I’ve been terribly rude! I haven’t properly introduced the Council.” She nodded back to the irresponsibly handsome gentleman on her left. “Gabriel Black is head of the Bear Shifter Clan. He also owns Bear Mountain Lumber and Bear Mountain Cabins.” Gabriel had olive skin with broad, powerful shoulders, casually styled cinnamon hair, and a knowing smile. His grey plaid flannel shirt was unbuttoned just enough to show off his muscular chest, and when he caught my gaze traveling down to where his pecs peeked out from the open placket of his shirt, he winked.

“Evening, Ms. Bradbury.” His deep voice and honey-dripped Southern drawl were enough to melt the lingerie off a Victoria’s Secret model. “Welcome to Salem.”

“Thank you,” I squeaked out. How mortifying.

“You are not dating a man bear, Titus scolded. Bears eat cats.”

Hush.

Oblivious to the uncomfortable flirtation unfolding before her, Mayor Davenport moved on. “And this is Kai Deschaine. He’s head of the Dragon Shifter Clan and heir to Deschaine Industries.”

“Pleased to meet you,” I said. Something told me I wasn’t prepared to hear what kind of industries a dragon shifter might have his hands— claws? —in.

“Gemma.” Kai raised his chin, not quite a nod, but close, giving me a glimpse of his pale grey eyes. He had a full head of thick, dirty blond hair and facial scruff to match, and from what I could tell from his tight black t-shirt, a body that looked like it had been hand-chiseled out of stone. Both arms were covered in black and silver—yes, silver, as in metallic—tattoos, and he wore gleaming black obsidian hoops in each ear. Kai looked like a brooding bad boy, the kind of guy every girl’s mother should warn her about. I made a mental note to stay far, far away.

“And Patrick McAllister.” She pointed to a fair-skinned man with a smattering of freckles and spiky flame-colored hair. “Patrick serves as Taoiseach of the Leprechaun constituency.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Taoiseach,” Patrick answered. “Essentially means leader in this context.” His hazel eyes flashed with mischief as he wriggled his brows at me. “But no need to get fancy with it. Ye can call me whatever ye’d like.”

“Just Patrick is fine.”

“I like a woman who knows what she wants,” he replied. My mouth went dry. Like every other man at the table, Patrick possessed red-carpet-worthy levels of attractiveness. I couldn’t recall ever seeing such a good-looking ginger man in my life. But I could handle him as long as he didn’t open his mouth. I was a sucker for an Irish accent. Well, any accent, if I’m honest.

I moistened my lips and forced myself to look away. On the opposite side of the table sat a blond-haired, blue-eyed, square-jawed Adonis with his chin propped up in one hand and a pair of gossamer wings, opening and closing in a slow, lazy rhythm. This was getting ridiculous. Was “jaw-droppingly gorgeous” a prerequisite for Council membership?

“This is David Summer, Prince of the Fae. David is our newest Council member.”

“Charmed,” David said as he stifled a yawn. “Pardon me. Late night.”

“Every night is a late night for you, fairy boy.” A dark-skinned man with a salt-and-pepper goatee, a broad, gleaming smile and a pair of curved horns—because why not?—elbowed David in the ribs with a chuckle. Even with him sitting down, it was obvious he was much taller than the rest of them. As I gaped at the horns, the man caught my eye and stood, rounding the table to approach me. “Hi, Gemma! I’m Cade. Cade Asterion.” He clapped a hand on my shoulder and drew me in for a bone-crushing hug. “Welcome to Salem!” He towered over me, so much so that my face pressed into his ribcage as he embraced me. And I should note the man didn’t seem to have an ounce of fat on his entire body.